Sever
by This Is Sarcasm
Summary: She was on Mercury, talking to Osiris. He was in the new War Room, reading a report. But they both felt it, the severing of the fireteam Link. They both felt their Hunter die.


They were in the middle of conversation when she felt it.

Her and Osiris would never be able to regain completely the bond they'd once had, but it was good to be able to speak to him again. And it was good for him, as well; decades(perhaps centuries, given the fluctuating passage of time in the Forest) of isolation with only his Ghost as company couldn't have been easy-or healthy.

Even Hunters took breaks from their lonesome escapades every now and then. Although he acted like it didn't matter, Ikora always sensed some sort of thirst about him whenever their meetings came, as if now that Panoptes was gone, he lived for contact with other Guardians; not just her. 'Problems' kept popping up in the forest. 'Problems' that, for some reason, he couldn't solve on his own, whereas before, he'd been solving them left and right even though nobody knew.

'Problems' who's solutions led to him interacting with others, even if Sagira forced him to. According to her, years of isolation had created a sensitivity to the Light that allowed her old mentor to physically feel when other Guardians so much as strode close to the Forest gate.

Today, she had planned to ask him about this. If he would like it if there was a permanent Guardian presence on Mercury, of if he would like to speak with the Consensus about ending his exile. She'd asked the latter many times, but even if he never hesitated to decline, strengthening doubt would flicker in his eyes more often.

Osiris had just asked her if anything interesting had happened lately. She had opened her mouth to reply, but was stopped by a sudden feeling.

In an instant, a breathtakingly painful instant, Ikora felt suddenly _lesser_. Her breath caught in her throat, and it felt like an entire third of her very soul had been lost to the void. It filled in slowly, like slithering lava.

Her eyes watered, and a tear slid down her cheek. Why was she crying?

"Ikora? Is something wrong?" her old mentor asked, brows knit together in concern.

"I... I don't... I-I'm sorry, I need to go. Something..." she couldn't describe the feeling. It felt like she was weaker in the world, like her place in the hierarchy, the food chain, the universe, had suddenly become lower.

As her Ghost trasmatted her to orbit, the feeling continued, and her hands started shaking so badly she didn't trust herself to pilot her ship.

Ikora felt lesser.

* * *

Zavala was in the Tower, reading the latest scouting reports. Cayde was recommending declaring Meridian Bay a Dead Zone, stating that it was 'so radioactive now, even Marcus' Ghost felt like she was going to toss it'.

The region had suffered a massive orbital nuclear strike during the Red War, the Cabal putting Rasputin's orbital strikes to shame. All of fifty miles was a massive, gaping crater. It had been decades since a new Dead Zone was declared, the last being the area east of the Russian Cosmodrome, where the Iron Lords had fallen.

He was finishing the report, coffee in hand, when he felt it.

Weakness. Exposed. Like he'd forgotten vital pieces of his armor, like a third of his strength had suddenly been sapped out of him. His hand went weak, and his coffee mug shattered on the floor.

"All none essential personal... please... excuse yourselves." he barely managed to say. The people in the room, the new war room, finally finished after a year of devoting resources to other things, looked at him oddly. "NOW!"

He didn't mean to snap, and as the room emptied, he explored the feeling, hoping it wasn't what he thought it was, despite the fact he'd felt it before and knew perfectly well what it was. Know it in his bones, because they suddenly felt hollower, more brittle. Just like they had when half of his and Sloane's original fireteam had met their dooms, felt it when Andal was murdered mere minutes after winning the Vanguard Dare, leaving spattered blood on the face of his successor.

Zavala knew what it felt like when the fireteam Link severed.

He looked down at the report in his hands, seeing the words but not really seeing them. The last words he'd ever see from... what were the last words he'd ever _heard_ from Cayde? How did he know it was Cayde when Ikora was equally missing, who was to know whether it was actually _both_ of them who'd met their ends?

He knew it was Cayde. He knew it in his now-too-brittle-unsafe-lesser-weaker bones. He knew because he'd felt this before, too many times. Could feel which part of the Link was missing when he explored the new, empty space. If both of them were dead, he would have felt even worse. But the calmer part of the Link(it was Ikora, he knew it was), was still a tide beneath his own, unyielding Light. The wild flame that jumped and flickered with all life's wild joy and wild deepest sorrows?

It had been snuffed. The Link was colder now, all in a second's instance.

He tossed the data pad down. It clattered on the table surface. He wrapped one arm over his chest, and buried his face in his other hand. His Ghost phased into existence, and pulsed her Light to try to comfort him. She'd felt it and recognized it, too.

 _"You got them a tank? Why didn't I ever get a tank!?"_ Zavala never had gotten around to requisitioning one for the Hunter.

 _"Anyone want a hug? Hugs? Okay, no hugs."_ He could still remember trembling, clutching both Ikora and Cayde to his chest desperately as Ghaul's massive, ghostly form rose over the City, ready to snuff them all out. That moment of horror, of knowing they wouldn't make it, and fear for his fireteam, was the only time he'd ever embraced either of them.

 _"Here we go again..."_ Every instance when Cayde picked up the slack for his and Ikora's inaction hit him like a slap to the face. Even in the Red War... it was that plan with the Vex teleportation device that became their saving grace.

 _"Did you by chance... happen to maybe... cry?"_

The room was empty. The Link was colder. He was weaker, and Ikora was lesser. Their fireteam was shattered. The closest Vanguard trio to ever hold command was broken with one, cruel bullet from a source both ironic, and impossible.

In the dark quiet of the war room, a sob wrenched from out of the Titan's thunderous lungs.

* * *

 _So, I thought of this, and couldn't leave it alone. I made myself cry. Congratulations, me! This is based of my head cannon that members of a fireteam Link to each other the same way Ghosts link to their Guardians, allowing for enhanced communications, and the ability to rezz each other in Darkness zones by adding their Link to the fallen Guardian's Ghost's own powers, if that makes any sense._

 _And the thought of Zavala and Ikora being able to feel Cayde's death in any way is FREAKING DARN DEPRESSING! I HATE YOU ULDREN!_

 _*Note: with Ikora, the only reason she doesn't recognize this is because she A: was known to be a loner for most of her life, and B:did not think of Andal or Saint-14 as fireteam when they died. She 'learns to support her fireteam, and to be a fireteam for others' during the Red War, as revealed by a lore tab. As such, I think she's going to be the one most effected by the events of Forsaken._

 _Fare Thee Well!_


End file.
